She Will Be Loved
by XxTheLadyInRedxX
Summary: Delilah O'Connor knows things can never go back to the way they were. But could they ever change and take a different path? Somehow it doesnt feel so. But with if there's something new in her life now. Or someONE..
1. Paint A Picture With My Hands

**Paint a Picture With My Hands**

by

XxTheLadyInRedxX

A/N: New story dedicated to my friend. All the characters and what not are mine. Tell me what you think.

x-x-x

_"Sunday Morning rain is falling _

_Steal some covers, share some skin _

_And clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable _

_You twist to fit the mold that I am in"_

She was silent, like she always was. Keeping to herself, over thinking memories in her head, wishing she could make the nightmares go away┘like she always was.

_"But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do _

_And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go if I knew _

_That someday it would lead me back to you _

_That someday it would lead me back to you"_

Things weren't getting better. The truth is, they might just have been getting worse.

_"That maybe all I need _

_In darkness she is all I see _

_Come and rest your bones with me _

_I'm driving slow on Sunday morning _

_And I never wanna leave"_

She stared at the blank wall in her room. It was just staring at her, asking her to relieve her stress. And in a blink of an eye, she pulled the floor board up and pulled a bucket of paint out of the secret hole. With one last glance at the wall, she through her hands into the bucket. It felt good feeling the paint against her skin. Red - it was a nice color.

_Splat!_

And soon enough it was splattered on the wall. Working faster, she dabbed her hands once more.

_Splat!  
_

The paint dripped as it made its way down the wall. It was messy - like a lot of things in her life. But that's just what it had always been like. And there was no changing it.

_Splat!_

Her hands swept across the wall, feeling the smooth texture. Sighing, she looked to her side, seeing her reflection in the mirror. At first glance she seemed normal. But as she looked closer, she could see the imperfections. Her hair had been tied into a neat ponytail, but now, with strands escaping from the tight grip, she laughed at the similarities.

_"My fingers trace your every outline _

_Paint a picture with my hands _

_And back and forth we sway like branches in a storm _

_Change of weather, still together when it ends"_

"Delilah! Get your ass down here!"

Slamming her hands against the wall, she looked down at her feet, wondering if she should respond.

"Now!"

Groaning, she took one last look in the mirror. All she was wearing was a really big white shirt that she usually put on when she painted. Andrew would not be happy to see her this way. Pulling off the paint-stricken cloth, she grabbed a pair of jeans and tugged them on, along with a red sweater.

"Do I have to come up there?"

"I'll be right down!"

With a sigh, she dragged her feet to the door and down the stairs. He waited for her there, arms crossed as if he were disappointed.

"Yes?" she asked, tired.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. Delilah looked back in confusion.

"I thought I was talking to you," she suggested.

"Don't get sarcastic with me!" Andrew sighed, putting a hand to his head. "Look, Lilah, I don't want to keep having this conversation. It's been a year-"

"Stop!" she said venomously. "I told you, I'm fine-"

"Yeah, and I think I know you well enough to know when your hiding your feelings. You're always hiding your feelings. Ever since the first day I met you," he stated.

"That was fifteen years ago, Andrew," she said, glaring at him.

"Yeah, but you still haven't seemed to open up," he whispered. "I don't want you to tell me anything, I don't want you to even explain to me how the hell you keep yourself going everyday. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," she mumbled.

"When's the last time you went out?" he asked.

"Yesterday!" she retorted.

"Work isn't going out, alright," he grumbled. "But thank God you have the dance studio to keep you out of that room."

"Look, I should go back up-"

"Why? So you'll continue to listen to depressing songs and wish he'd-"

"Andrew," she whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this."

It sent chills down her spine just thinking about it...

"Lilah?" he asked with pleading eyes. "Please don't be sad."

"I - I don't know what to do, Andrew," she sniffled.

"Go out once in a while, will you? For me?" he begged. Wiping a tear away with her sleeve, she nodded.

"Alright," she whispered.

_"Driving slow on Sunday morning_

_And I never want to leave..."_


	2. And It Really Makes Me Wonder

**And It Really Makes Me Wonder**

by

XxTheLadyInRedxX

A/N: CHAPTER TWO. Its short.

_-x-x-x-_

_Wake up with blood-shot eyes_

_Struggle to memmorize_

_Way it felt to hearing lies_

_People that made you cry_

"Now, remember to move your shoulders," instructed Delilah, as the kids began to dance. "Gracefully now, Lauren. You have to put your soul into your dancing."

Watching with observant eyes, Delilah tried her best to correct her students. They had gotten so well. And to think it was all because of her.

_Feel so good to be bad_

_Not worth the aftermath_

_After that, after that_

_Try to get you back_

Before she could instruct further, she heard the sound of a man clearing his throat.

"Alright, that's it for now. Class dismissed, I'll see you guys tomorrow," she called as she walked toward Andrew.

"Fun class?" he teased.

"Yes, actually, it was," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Ready to go out?" he asked.

"Look, I don't think this is such a good idea," she said hesitantly.

"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easy," he said, shaking his head. "A promise is a promise, now let's get you home so you can change."

"But-"

"No but's!" he declared, as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away.

-x-x-x-

_I still don't have the reason_

_And you don't have the time_

_And it really makes me wonder_

_If I ever gave a fuck about you_

"This is stupid," she mumbled as Andrew applied her eyeliner for her.

"You're stupid," he muttered back.

"What?" she challenged.

"Are you wearing the black skirt I told you to wear?" he asked, quickly changing topics.

"Well, you kind of forced me into it," she grumbled.

"I did no such thing," he said, appalled.

"You threatened to drop my phone into the toilet!" she accused.

"And you believed me?" he exclaimed.

"You've done it before!" she recalled.

"Oh, yeah," he said, chuckling as he remembered her exact expression.

"Funny, funny Australian man," she stated bitterly.

"Hey, you love me!" he shouted, flailing his arms, eye shadow in one hand.

"Just apply my makeup, pretty boy," she teased.

-x-x-x-

"Delilah, I'd like you to meet my good friend Chuck. Chuck, this is the girl I've been telling you about," he stated.

"Ah, the crazy roommate," he recalled.

They both laughed as Delilah rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Oh," said Chuck. "This is my friend Steven."

Delilah narrowed her eyes as Steven gave her a flirtatious smile.

"Hi," he said, extending his hand so that she'd shake it.

But before anyone could respond, Delilah's eye went wide. THIS WAS A SETUP! Bottling up a sudden anger towards Andrew, she threw him a quick glare before shaking the man's hand.

"Hello, Steven, so - you're gay too I presume," said Delilah with a smirk on her face.

Andrew's face went pale as he looked away. Clearing his throat, Steven looked toward Chuck for help, but his friend was also looking away, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Looking back at Delilah in confusion, Steven pulled the collar of his shirt looser around his neck.

"Um - no, actually, I'm straight," he said awkwardly.

"Oh!" stated Delilah, faking shock. "Well, I feel just stupid. I am so sorry. I just assumed, you know -"

Waggling her eyebrows toward Andrew, she smiled.

"I mean, I cant keep guys hands off him!" she exclaimed.

-x-x-x-

_Give me something to believe in_

_Cause I don't believe in you anymore, anymore_

_I wonder if it makes a difference to try_

_Yeah, so this is goodbye_

"What the hell was that?" Andrew yelled as the two entered their apartment. "You behaved like a complete idiot tonight. Where is the shy and civilized Delilah I used to take out to bars with me."

"She was buried the minute you got me a blind date!" she said.

"Oh, stop being a drama queen, Lilah," he mumbled.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she mumbled as she took her scarf off and hung it on the coat rack.

"Then perhaps you would like to talk about that moment tonight where you 'accidentally' spilled your glass of water on Steven," he yelled.

"He saw it coming!" she retorted.

"He was nothing but nice to you," said Andrew. "When are you going to move on and not think that every guy you meet is a jackass!"

As the words stung her, Delilah looked away as Andrew made his way to his room. She winced as she heard him slam the door. With a tear in her eye, she quickly wiped it away. She had promised to never cry over him again...

_I've been here before, one day, a week_

_And it won't hurt anymore_

_You caught me in a lie, I have no alibi_

_The words you said don't have a meaning_


	3. Hate to Love and Love to Hate Her

**Hate to Love and Love to Hate Her**

by

XxTheLadyInRedxX

A/N: Chapter two! Hope you enjoy!

-x-x-x-

_After school, walking home _

_Fresh dirt under my fingernails _

_And I can smell hot asphalt _

_Cars screech to a halt to let me pass_

It took her about ten minutes to find her phone in that large bag of hers.

"One minute," she mumbled at her ringing purse.

_"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, touch me baby!"_ sang her phone as she stuck her hand in the mess that was her 'necessities' whenever she left the house.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, as she pulled out the flashing machine. "Hello?"

"I've told you a million times to leave some of that crap at home, Lilah."

"Hello, Andrew," she smiled to herself as she could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"Where are you? I woke up this morning to find you bed actually empty! Do you know how rare that is?" he exaggerated.

Delilah let out a giggle, as she crossed the busy streets of New York City.

"I had to do some shopping," she said.

"You? Shopping? Ok, who are you and what have you done to the Delilah that I've known to bicker at," he gasped.

"It's for the dance classes," she explained.

"Should've known," he mumbled. "What you getting now?"

"I need a new CD for the classes," she began, "the kids are getting slightly bored by the same old thing. Plus, I need songs for the upcoming show."

"And you had to get up at 6 in the morning just to do that?" he wondered aloud.

"I needed to clear my head, get some fresh air," she said.

"At 6 in the morning?" he repeated.

"Goodbye, Andrew," she smiled as she hung up the phone.

By the time she tossed her phone aimlessly into the bag, she had already reached her destination: NEW YORK NEW YORK music, a small music store two blocks away from her apartment. True, most people believed the store to be named after the classic old song, but Delilah knew that wasn't the whole story. The owner of the shop, Edward Anzers, was quite an old man, and he had always promised to tell her why the chose that name. But every time she'd ask, he would give her a smile and say, "In good time, beautiful, in good time."

The door rang as she entered, and she headed straight towards the CD's.

"May I help you?" asked a voice.

"No, I'm just looking," she mumbled.

"Are you sure, you don't need any help?"

"I'm positive," she retorted, keeping her eyes on the album names.

"Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Yes, I do," she said, beginning to grow irritated.

"I can-"

"Listen," she snapped as she turned to the frightened employee. "I can handle this."

The woman, Bertha, as it said on her name tag, looked as if her ego had just been bruised.

"You can go now," she mumbled as she turned back to her CD's.

Bertha gave a loud sniff and walked toward the back room.

"Finally," she mumbled.

It had been an hour that Delilah had been looking for CD's when she was interrupted again.

"May I help you?"

"Listen, Bertha!" she snapped as she turned around to face the employee.

But it wasn't who she expected.

"Bertha? I'm sorry, I hadn't realized that I'd grown breasts and bitterness in the past ten minutes," said the man.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were-"

"Bertha?" snorted the man. "I should take that as an insult."

"Right," she mumbled as she turned back to the CD's.

"So did you need any help?" he asked.

"Like I told your friend, I'm good," she responded, irritated.

"Alright, it just seemed like you were a bit lost every time I glanced up at you for the past forty-five minutes," she said, as he walked away.

Delilah rolled her eyes as she picked up a CD. Beethoven? Crap.

"Okay, wait," she forced herself to say, as she realized that she was lost. "I - need some help."

"I'm sorry? I didn't quite hear your mumble? Could you repeat that?" asked the man with a grin on his face.

Delilah groaned as she looked at the CD. She had half a mind to throw it at the man's head and yell, "Do you hear me now, bitch?!" But no, she restrained herself and chose not to shout Verizon commercials at the ignorant boy behind the counter.

"I need some help," she said with a sigh.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, the smirk gone from his face, only professional now.

"Songs to dance to," she explained, as she pulled her bag over her shoulder.

"Any specific type of dance?" he asked, walking past the CD's.

"Some hip-hop, ballet, contemporary, and a couple tango numbers," she said, counting them in her head. Thinking back about what she said, she realized the impossibility that all that would fit on one CD.

But then, the man suddenly pulled a CD out of his employee vest pocket.

"Like this?" he asked, handing it to her.

Reading the songs in the back, Delilah's eyes widened as she looked back at the miracle worker.

"Yeah," she said, "where'd you get this?"

"Made it myself," he shrugged, as he took it back and headed to the counter. "Would that be all for you?"

"I - yeah, thanks," she said, flustered.

Searching for the wallet in her purse, Delilah was at a loss of words.

"No, this ones on the house," he said, placing the CD in a bag.

"No, I couldn't," she said, shaking her head.

"It's technically not a store CD, I can't charge you for it," he explained.

"Let me repay you," she pleaded.

"You already did," he smiled.

Delilah looked confused as she grabbed the bag and walked towards the door. But before she could leave, she had to ask. Turning around, she tried to find the words.

"How?" she asked.

"By walking into my store with a face like that," he said smoothly.

Delilah refused to blush. She would never fall for a line like that - never again. She nodded, as she walked out the door. However, with all that just happened, she seemed a bit preoccupied. And that's when it happened - she crashed into a pole.

_And I cannot remember _

_What life was like through photographs _

_And trying to recreate images _

_Life gives us from our past _

_And sometimes it's a sad song_

"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"

"I hit my head," she muttered as she clutched what would be a bruise in a few minutes.

"Yes, you did," chuckled the voice.

"Oh God, I hit my fucking head," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

"Can you get up?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling herself up slightly. "No - no I can't."

Her head was back on the cement.

"Here," said the man, as he put his arms around her.

She was soon back on her feet, blinking so that the blurriness would go away.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"About ten minutes."

"Oh, God," she groaned.

"Don't worry, I don't think anyone saw," he said, smiling as thirty or so people walked around them.

"Oh, no," she blushed, covering her face with her hands.

"Want me to get you out of here?" he asked.

"Would you?" she begged.

He laughed as he took his jacket off, and put it over her face. Steering her away, Delilah realized they had gone back into the store.

"Thanks," she whispered as miracle boy took his jacket back.

"No problem," he shrugged. "That fall was pretty funny though."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said bitterly.

"You usually fall like that?" he asked.

Delilah felt her cheeks blush as she looked away in embarrassment. She didn't even want to mention all the other 'accidents' she's had.

"Anyway," he continued. "Now that I've helped you - twice - maybe you should consider getting some coffee with me?"

Delilah made a face as he suggested the idea.

"What? You don't like coffee? We could go out for pizza," he said quickly.

"No, it's not that, it's just-"

_"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, touch me baby!"_

"Ughk," she sounded as she opened her bag. "I'm sorry."

Finding the phone, she flipped it open and spoke.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to let you know that we're out of soy milk," said Andrew.

Delilah rolled her eyes.

"It's your turn to get groceries," she reminded.

"Yeah, but I mean, you're already out - might as well," he said.

She could imagine the smile playing on his lips.

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "But that only means that you're on grocery duties twice in a row!"

Before Andrew could fight back, Delilah shut the phone.

"Sorry about that," she apologized.

"It's alright," he smiled.

"That reminds me," she said. "I need to-"

Placing her phone on the counter, she opened her bag and began to dig. Pulling out a pad and pen, she jotted down 'soy milk' in her messy hand writing, dotting the 'i' with a peace sign.

"Alright, well, thanks again," she said, trying to avoid the topic of going out. "I guess I'll see you later."

And before he could respond, she walked out the door, making sure to watch out for the pole.

_But I cannot forget, refuse to regret _

_So glad I met you and _

_Take my breath away, make everyday _

_Worth all of the pain that I have gone through_

"Andrew!" she called. "I'm home!"

No response.

"I got your goddamn groceries!" she yelled once more.

No response.

"Oh, god, get your ass over here and help me!" she complained as she walked into the kitchen.

But as she walked past the phone, she realized a red light was flashing. Clicking on the button, she unloaded the groceries from the bags.

"Four new messages. First message," said the phone. "In case you get home before I find you, I just want to tell you to pick up your phone! I've called you about twenty times and I'm starting to get scared. Where the fuck are you?" yelled Andrew's voice into the speaker.

Delilah shook her head as she placed the milk in the fridge.

"Second message," it spoke, "Delilah O'Connor, I don't know if this is some joke, but it is not funny! Now pick up your phone!"

Delilah stopped laughing as she realized that she hadn't heard her phone ring once. Opening her bag, she began to dig through. Oh no.

"Third message," it spoke. "Alright, I'm entering the CD store. You better be here. Hold on, I see a really cute guy at the counter. Hey, I'm Andrew."

Delilah's eyes widened as the message cut.

"Fourth message," it spoke for the last time. "Hey there, Delilah. It's the guy from the CD store that you completely blew off. Your friend Andrew is here and he's telling me I should keep your phone until you get here and pick it up yourself. Hope to see you soon. Bye."

Delilah's mouth dropped as she stared at the phone.

"End of messages."

"Why!? What the fuck did I do to you, Andrew! I swear to God, I'm going to hurt you the minute I see you!" she yelled at the phone.

_And mama I've been crying _

_Cause things ain't how they used to be _

_She said, "The battles almost won _

_And were only several miles from the sun"_

"You're gonna need to get your phone back eventually," reasoned Andrew, as he chopped celery.

"No, I'm not materialistic like you. I can live without that stupid machine," she retorted.

"You love that phone! You'd die without it! I'm surprised you haven't hit the floor and started having seizures," he said, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness. "Why is it so bad going back there?"

"Because," she scowled. "_He's_ there."

"He seemed really nice," he stated.

"They all seem nice," she muttered. "And then they end up - end up-"

Delilah held back tears as she choked on her words.

"I just don't want to go back there, alright," she said, looking away.

"Alright," he sighed. "But when you're ready to actually make yourself happy, I think you should go get your phone. You never know, something could happen on your way there."

And I'm moving on down the street I see people I wont ever meet I think of her, take a breath Feel the beat in the rhythm of my steps And sometimes it's a sad song

Tapping her fingers against the table, Delilah rotated on the couch for the fifth time.

"This is crazy," she thought. "I can live without a phone. Or you know what, I'll just buy a new one. He can keep one for all I care."

Rotating once more, she sighed.

"But all my stuff is on that phone. Fuck, how am I getting it back without dealing with his foolish man wishes," she continued her thought.

Rotate.

"I can go down there, I guess. I'll just go in, get the phone, and run out," she thought. "Easy as one, two, three."

Rotate.

"But what if he's the sneaky type?"

After an hour of rotation and thought, Delilah decided it was time to get her life back.

_The rhythm of her conversation _

_The perfection of her creation _

_The sex she slipped into my coffee _

_The way she felt when she first saw me_

The bell rang as she made her way into the store. Total de javu.

"Hello?" she called, not seeing anyone in the store. "Anyone here?"

"May I help you?" asked a voice.

"Yes, I'd like to - oh," her eyes went wide. "Hey, Bertha."

The employee looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"May I help you?" she repeated.

"Um, yeah, I'm looking for a man that works here," she explained.

"That's very specific of you," she rolled her eyes as she walked towards the counter.

"You don't get it. I need to see him. He has my-"

Bertha pulled out a phone from a drawer in the table.

"-phone," she breathed, looking at it confused.

"He told me to hold it until you came back," she said, pulling a face.

"Did he - did he leave?" she asked.

"Well yeah," said Bertha with a snort. "Today was his day off."

"Day off? I didn't know employees worked during their days off," she wondered aloud.

"He's not an employee, hun," said Bertha. "Ryan owns the store."

"Owns?" she blurted. ⌠That's not possible. Since when?"

"Since his father passed away," said Bertha, walking to the back room once more.

_Hate to love and love to hate her _

_Like a broken record player _

_Back and forth and here and gone _

_And on and on and on and on_

-x-x-x-


End file.
